


First Meetings and Second Chances

by Svykari



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: I should not be writing a new fic, M/M, Seriously why am I doing this to myself?, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, Will put warnings in each chapter, trans!Bilbo - Freeform, what have I done?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Svykari/pseuds/Svykari
Summary: Bilbo Baggins had not always went by that name.  No fate had given him another.  One he didn't hate but never set right on his shoulders.  A chance incounter with a stranger allows him to choose a new name for himself.  Only fate it seems keeps putting this stranger on Bilbo's path.  First in Bree and then years later to go on an adventure.  Though they have both changed much in the time it between meetings.  His kind stranger is now cold and distant while Bilbo had shut himself away from the world and would step foot out of the Shire if you paid him.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 18
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Improper binding methods

Isabella Baggins hands shook. She took a shaking breath and squeezed her eyes tight. The distinct snip and feather like brush of hair falling against her face made her eyes open once more. She tossed the shears onto the vanity counter. Her hands coming to her mouth. “Ohhh what have I done? Father is going to kill me.” She leaned forward to stare at the gap in her hair. Already what was left was twisting into a curl. A laugh escaped her lips before she tugged on the now short lock. Quickly she picked up the shears and snipped away more. She was careful and did not rush. Soon the shaking stopped as she lost herself into the act of cutting away her hair.

The young hobbit brushed away the curls that fell on her shoulders. Quick as a whip she removed her chemise and petticoats and donned the short pants she had taken from her father. She had his shirt and vest, but she couldn’t put them on just yet. Instead Isabella tore a long strip from her petticoat and began to wrap it about her chest as tightly as she could. The shirt lay flat and the vest hid what little was left of her chest. She stood marveling at herself in the mirror. No one would see a skinny tween girl hobbit but a boy!

No one knew her in Bree. They wouldn’t know that she had been anything other than how she looked right now. Well now she wasn’t a she looking like that. He and he would fight anyone who called him otherwise left their room at the Prancing Pony. Below him was filled with men and other hobbits. There were even a few dwarves scattered about. Everything was so loud. He walked to bar. “Excuse me.”

When no one answer he cleared his throat and tried again. The bar keeper looked his way. “What can I get you Master Hobbit?” A grin as bright as the sun graced the hobbit’s face. He had been called Master! Not Miss or anything like that but Master Hobbit!

“Um…Can I- No I want to have a cup of ale. Yes. I would like ale…please.” Isabella wanted to groan and smack himself. He was old enough for ale why did he have to make it so awkward? But men were not all “can I have” or “would you please.” He sighed. This would take time to get used to. He waited as the bar keeper got his glass before paying for it.

It was bitter on Isabella’s tongue. He moved away from the bar to find a place where he could sit and watch others and maybe have a bite to eat. Just as he turned, his elbow caught onto someone else causing him to spill his ale down their front. “Sorry. Sorry! I am so sorry.”

The dwarf grunted at him and moved back when Isabella tried to wipe away the mess he made. “It’s fine. Just watch what you are doing next time Elbows.” The dark-haired dwarf said as he moved away. Likely to avoid Isabella like he was some sort of illness.

“That isn’t my name.” He blurted out. The dwarf turned and arched a brow at him. “That isn’t my name.” He tried again clutching his cup.

“Oh? And what is your name then?” Damnation Isabella hadn’t thought this through. He just didn’t want to be called Elbows by some stranger.

“Eh…” He looked around and then at his cup. “Bilbo? My name is Bilbo!” It was as good of a name as any. “And yours?” Bilbo asked.

“You are a strange one.” Bilbo’s face darkened. He should have expected that. He had after all just spilt ale all over this person’s front. “It’s Thorin. At your service.” The dwarf bowed.

“A-at yours as well.” Bilbo swallowed and fumbled into a bow spilling the rest of his drink. He slapped a hand over his face. This was just marvelous!

Thorin chuckled. “Have you had too many or not enough?”

“I think not enough.” Bilbo pulled his hand from his face and smiled. Thorin returned it before stepping up to the bar.

“Bar keeper. An ale for me and my friend here. Mahal knows the poor lad needs it.” He handed over the fresh ale. “Try not to spill this on anyone this time.”

Bilbo nodded and took his cup to an empty table. His eyes followed Thorin to where he sat with another dwarf with tattoos on their head. The way he sat was so strange to Bilbo. An arm thrown over the back of his chair, legs not pressed together, an easy smile on his face as he drank down his ale. Bilbo leaned back in his chair. Well now that was far more comfortable. He let his legs move away from each other. Well that just made him feel silly and exposed.

His mother’s voice sounded in his head. “A young hobbit girl does not sit with their legs open all willy-nilly Bells. And for heaven’s sakes sit up straight. You’ll never be able to wear a proper corset if you don’t.”

Well Bilbo had no plans to ever wear a corset again. He wouldn’t be expected back from his walking holiday for another two weeks. After he would march straight up to his home and tell his parents he was Bilbo from now on. His eyes were drawn to Thorin once again. Bilbo set his cup on the table and tried to grab it again more firmly than he had been. More like the way Thorin held his. There that felt much better. Less like he would drop it.


	2. Chapter 2

Bree had much to offer a young hobbit. There were the parties at the Prancing Pony. Games of skill with a bit of harmless gambling went on every night. In the town itself there were shops to look at. There was a dwarven shop Bilbo had run across holding all sorts of toy. They were magnificent. They were clever little things that moved if you winded a small crank. There was even a book shop! But it was the black smith that had taken resident in town that drew his attention the most. Or were they a jeweler? Bilbo rightfully didn’t care because he had heard them being called a black smith.

Regardless of what they were Bilbo had seen others walk around with his work. Beautiful hair pin that looked like they would dance to life at any second. Fascinating little clasps for buttonholes and cravat pins were worn by all the men. He wanted one and so went to search for the black smith. After half an hour searching the streets and asking a few people when Bilbo got lost he found his way on the front step of the shop. With excitement in his belly the young hobbit pushed the door open.

“Excuse me?” He called out. It was a small shop with wares lining the walls. He could hear banging from somewhere in the back. Bilbo entered and began browsing what he saw. Iron forged swords. Nothing he was particularly interested it. Some reinforced boots. Oh look there pots and pans. His mother would love them! Bilbo made his way to the cookery and carefully lifted one. It was the perfect size for a hobbit but a little heavy.

“Can I help you?” A voice came from behind him. Bilbo turned quickly forgetting about the skillet he still held. It collided with the person making him cry out in pain.

“Sorry!” Bilbo quickly let the skillet fall only realizing too late that it was a bad idea. The dwarf yelled out in pain as it hit his foot. “I am so sorry! Here let me help you.”

“No, you’ve done enough.” The dwarf looked up from where he was trying not to fall in his effort to check his foot. “Bilbo?” Thorin? Oh, could this not get any worse?

“Please let me at least try to help you sit down.” After a moment Thorin nodded though it was a small bob of his head more than confirmation. Bilbo took him by his arm and wrapped his own around Thorin’s waist. The two of them made it to the chair in the corner. “Can I please check and make sure I didn’t break anything?”

“I doubt it is broken. What were you doing in here?” Thorin asked as he kicked his boot from his foot. It was already growing dark in color though he could wiggle it just fine.

“I saw the pins that some of the other hobbit were wearing. They said they got them from this shop. And then I saw a cooking set my mother would adore. Thought it is a bit heavy for a hobbit.” Bilbo knelt at Thorin’s feet and started poking and prodding at his feet. He had helped his mother set many bones in his day. She was very insistent he take over being the local healer. “Do you have any cloth I can use for binding? It will help the swelling at the very least.”

“You have training as a healer?” Thorin asked as he pointed to the other end of the shop.

Bilbo went over to find a single bolt of cloth. Likely used to wrap small items so the customer wouldn’t lose them. Bilbo ripped a strip from it and returned to Thorin where he once again knelt to take his foot. “Some. My mother taught me. And yourself? You are a black smith?”

“I am a dwarf. We all have some skill in working with metals and gems.” He twitched his foot and Bilbo held tighter to keep him from moving. He didn’t want to wrap too tightly and cause more problems. “Why do you claim the cookery is too heavy?”

Bilbo shrugged. “It’s the right shape for a hobbit but it is heavy to hold for long. It would make transporting it from the stove to the table a pain. Or if you had to take it to a party. You would need another person just to help you.” Bilbo patted Thorin’s leg. “There all fixed. I wouldn’t be on your foot as much as possible.”

“Come back tomorrow.” Thorin said as he slipped his boot back on his foot.

“What?” Bilbo asked as he got to his feet.

“Come back tomorrow. I was closing up shop. The forge has already been closed for the night.” Oh well that was unfortunate. “I said for the night. I can’t make anything new until tomorrow. Come back in the morning.”

“Oh. Thank you. What are you going to do now?” Bilbo asked getting to his feet.

“Getting something to eat at the inn.” Thorin hobbled to the front of the shop where he held the door open for Bilbo to pass under.

“Can I walk you there? I mean I am staying at the Prancing Pony. We would be going the same way.” Bilbo ducked under Thorin’s arm. He waited for the black smith to lock up.

“Promise not to drop anything else on my foot or spill ale on me?” Bilbo turned a deep shade of red having their first meeting brought up. Thorin chuckled. “Come on. I am only teasing you. You wouldn’t make it in a dwarven city.”

“Why is that?” Bilbo asked as he kept up with the longer strides of his new companion.

“Because you wear your emotions on your face. You would make an easy target.” They remained silent as they continued their way to the inn where they ordered quite a meal. On Bilbo of course since he had hurt the dwarf.


	3. Chapter 3

Just as promised Bilbo returned to Thorin’s shop the next morning. He could see smoke rising above the shop and assumed the forge was lit and going. When he tried the handle, it was unlocked. “Good morning!” He called out before making his way inside. He found Thorin at the back where the forge lay. The dwarf was already hard at work.

Thorin turned to him. “You can sit there. You’ll be less likely to be hit by fire.” Thorin pointed to a chair that was the right size for a hobbit or dwarf.

“That happens?” He asked as he took his seat.

“More often than one would like. So, what would you like other than the cooking set for your mother?” Thorin went back to the forge where he was working on a blob of metal. Bilbo had no skill to tell what it would turn out to be.

“I noticed the pins and buttons. I was thinking about getting some of them.” He looked around taking in all the wonderful things stored in this little shop.

“There by the counter is some drawings. I can make you some from one of those if you would like or I can make some custom. It will cost a bit more for time taken to come up with a design.” Thorin didn’t once turn from where he was working. “You do have the coin to pay right?”

“Of course. I am on holiday and it is mandatory I bring back gifts for my friends and family.” Bilbo scooted off of the chair where he went to go look at the designs Thorin had readily available. They would work for most of the people he knew but for his cousin he wanted something special so he might ask for a custom hair pin.

The sketches he saw were masterfully done. “Did you do these yourself?” Bilbo asked as he ran it fingers over the pages. He got a grunt in response that he thought was a yes. Though it could just be Thorin’s way of telling him to shut up. “These are beautiful.” Bilbo went back to where the chair was and sat once more. He watched as Thorin worked and even asked a few questions though he really didn’t want to disturb the dwarf.

Over the next hour he realized Thorin was making cookery! “Here tell me how this feels. Don’t worry it is quite cool.” Bilbo took the skillet that was offered him and turned it over in his hands. It was light enough he could hold it in one hand which would leave the other free to cook or grab things. It was balanced as well. He didn’t fear dropping it. “Well?”

“Perfect for a hobbit. And it even has flowers on the handle.” He examined the rest of and noticed Thorin’s crafters mark. “These are amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re the one paying. Besides this gives me an explanation of why my cookery doesn’t sell to hobbit though it sells just fine to dwarves.” Thorin passed him the next which was a pot.

“Still heavy but it isn’t bad. When it is full it’ll take too people to move. But you could place half of it in another pot.” On it went. With each one that was deemed too heavy Thorin placed them to the side only to remake them.

“Will you be able to take all this back home to the Shire?” Bilbo hadn’t thought about that. He supposed he could see if they could be shipped to him. Or he could hire a pony to carry his things back. He supposed that would be the best way.

“I’ll manage. I think I’ll hire a pony to carry everything.” He ran his thumb over the tiny little flowers on the handle of his mother’s new skillet. Such delicate work. It was fascinating to watch. Bilbo spent the rest of the day watching as Thorin made the rest of his order. He had to stop several times to handle other customers.

“So, what do you plan to do tomorrow?” Thorin asked as he shut the forge down for the night.

“I think I will spend the day in the book shop. They have many bound journals I think my father would like and several books that I haven’t seen before. If I have time, I’ll stop by the textile shop. My mother was just saying she wanted some new cloth for a dress.” Bilbo paused. “Can I come back later and watch you craft things? I’ve never seen it before and it is quite amazing really.”

Thorin snorted and lead the way to the front of the shop. He still limped quite a bit. “If that is what you would like. I don’t mind. Dinner?” Thorin held the door once more.

“Yes, I am starving.” Once again, they returned to the Prancing Pony to share a meal. Bilbo still feeling quite horrible about hurting his new friend paid for the food once more. Every free moment Bilbo had over the following week he spent in Thorin’s shop. If they didn’t meet at the shop, then they found each other at dinner. They rarely said anything, but it never bothered Bilbo.

Another week passed and Bilbo packed to return home. He stopped by the shop one more time. “I’ll be leaving. I promised my family I would return before Autumn. I just wanted to say thank you. It was nice having a friend in town.”

Thorin set down his hammer. “I will be returning to my home as well. Durin’s day is nearly here and I promised I would return to my own family before then. It was a pleasure knowing you Bilbo. If you come to Bree next spring I should be here. Unless winter is a harsh one and then I will be late.” They shook hands and parted way. Bilbo led his pony all the way back to the Shire. His family would just love the gifts he had brought back with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gender dysphoria

The smell of a home cooked meal put a spring in Bilbo’s step and he pulled the pony a little faster. He entered the house leaving the pony tied out front. “Good evening Mother!” He called out as he entered the kitchen. “Where’s Father?”

“Over with your uncles.” She turned from the stove and gasped. Her hands went to her lips. “Isabella Baggins what on earth did you do to yourself?! Go take it off before your father see. And look at your hair. Oh, he is going to be so disappointed in you.”

“I don’t want to take it off Mother.” Bilbo took his mother’s hand in his when she touched his hair. “I’m not a girl. I never have been. Mother just look at me and tell me you see a girl.”

“Oh I knew this would happen if you left the Shire.” She touched his cheek. “Take it off dear. Before your father sees. We will talk about this later.”

“No! I want to talk about it now. Why should I take it off? What does Father care if I wear pants or a skirt?” Bilbo pulled away from his mother and crossed his arm. It hurt. He thought his mother of all people would be happy for him.

She came and gently laid her hand on his arm. “Bells. No look at me.” His mother gently turned his face to her. “Look you are just barely a tween. You live in your father’s home. You better do as he says. What will you do if he kicks you out over this? You won’t have your inheritance and the people of the Shire are not kind about these sorts of things. Put on your dress Bells or I can’t help you. Now before your father comes back. We’ll think of something to tell him about your hair.”

Bilbo fought against the tears that threatened to fall down his face. “Gifts are out front on a pony.” He muttered before going to his room. He pulled off the shirt and pants he had fallen in love with and unbound his chest. He glared at the angry red marks there, but they were better than having to see them. He went to his closet and yanked the first dress he came to off the hanger. By the end of it his anger was spent and all he could do was sit on his bed. He held the pillow to his chest as he let the tears run down his face.

A soft knock sounded on his door and Belladonna stepped inside. “Oh, Bells don’t cry. I’m not mad at you.” She went to her child and knelt before them.

“I don’t want this!” Bilbo shouted and fought against his mother’s touch. Eventually she won and he collapsed against her chest like a young child again. “Why can’t you understand that?”

“Oh I do dear. I was young once too. I traveled the world and there were so many people. It was easier to travel in pants than skirts, but I knew I would always have to come back here and put the skirts back on.” She stroked Bilbo’s short locks.

“It isn’t the same. You are a girl. I’m not.” Bilbo muttered.

“I know dear. I wasn’t talking about me when I meant I knew about you. I had dwarven friends before. They believed that sometimes the flesh came out wrong in their god’s forge but the soul is perfect. And you are perfect dear. But you can’t be a boy and live with your father. He wouldn’t allow it. Now what is your new name? And I want to hear all about your adventures to Bree.” Belladonna scooted so they were sitting side by side.

Bilbo rubbed at his eyes. “You believe me when I say I am a boy?” His mother nodded and pushed his curls back from his face. That was fine then. He could put up with wearing a skirt for a little while longer. At least over the winter until he could decide what to do. “It’s Bilbo. My name is Bilbo.”

“Bilbo? Well I expect there is a story behind that one.” She nudged her son and he smiled. “Well tell me. Don’t keep me waiting!”

The smile grew. “It was hardly any adventure. It was just a holiday. Well I met a dwarf right after I cut my hair and everything. I felt so foolish. I spilt my ale on him. He was the one that made all the pots and pans I bought. He is a black smith or something. He makes other things like hair pins and buttons. I bought some for a new shirt for Father. Oh and the hair pins are to go to Lobelia. I also bought you several bolts of cloth. You mentioned you wanted a new dress.”

And so he told her all about Thorin and how he tried to mimic his movements. How they spent most every day in Thorin’s forge or every night eating supper together. He told her about the book shop and the amazing things he found in there. “I brought several back for father.” He went on to tell her about the wonders of the toy shop he had found though he bought nothing from there.

“That sounds like a grand adventure to me Bilbo. I’m so proud of you. If you see that dwarf again bring him around for a proper supper. I must thank him for such lovely cookware. Just you wait and see I’ll be the envy of all the wives and then everyone will want a set of their own.”

Bilbo smiled hearing his name on his mother’s lips. “I think I might go back next spring. Look for a job and earn my own money.”

“Why ever would you do that? You’re going to inherit Bag End and everything surrounding it when your father gets old.” Belladonna got to her feet and helped Bilbo to his. She made no comment over the mirror that had been covered by a long sheet.

“I won’t hide like this forever. Tell father whatever you want about my hair but as soon as I earn enough to live on my own, I will tell him my true name. If he can’t accept me then fine. I still have you, don’t I?” He asked and for once felt afraid that he would lose both of them.

“Of course, you have me dear.” His mother sighed. “I know someone in Bree. They are always looking for someone to help them with their store. They can never keep help more than a season or two. If you are willing to put in the hard work, I’ll put in a good word for you.”

She cupped his cheek and smiled. “I always worried you would be more like your father. I’m glad I see some of myself in you. Now let’s get supper on the table. Just because you are a boy now doesn’t mean you are going to leave all the cooking and cleaning to me.”

“I’d never!” Bilbo shouted. His mother just laughed and took his arm in hers. Together they set the table and placed the food in easy reach of their small family. Everything will be fine. Bilbo still had his mother’s love. It would hurt if or when his father rejected him but he would just have to live with that.


	5. Chapter 5

Winter was long that year. Of course, Bilbo knew it wasn’t any longer than the one before, but things were tense around the house. His father had despised the hair cut and for a full two weeks refused to look at him. Finally, after his mother promised that it was a new thing young females were into did his father finally seem less upset. Bilbo even tried to tie in some hair ribbon just to make things easier. By the midwinter holiday his father came around to the idea of Bilbo having short hair and seemed to like it. He awoke to his mother’s gentle prodding. He rolled to look at her. “Mother?”

Belladonna placed her finger to her lips. “Shh love. I wanted to give you a gift just between us.” Bilbo sat up in bed and accepted her gift. The one he had picked out for her was in their living room waiting on morning. “Hurry up and open it!”

He rubbed sleep from his eyes before opening the wrapping. “Mother…” He held up the soft velvet vest with the button he had brought back for his father’s new clothes. A shirt more his size lay in there as well. A cream-colored pair of pants lay at the bottom. “What is all this?”

“They’re your new clothes. Well try them on before your father wakes up. I know you won’t be able to wear them at home, but I made several of them for your trip into Bree come spring.” Bilbo almost shouted instead he pulled his mother into a hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered before slipping out of bed. He quickly dressed in the new clothes and gave a small spin for his mother to look them over. He felt silly like he was a child again when his mother had him trying on new things.

“Well I must say they look far better than your father’s old things. You almost looked like a beggar with how they fit so horrible. I have one more gift for you that we will do before your father wakes.” She lifted a bag made of soft leather. “That way you can carry your things to Bree.”

Once more Bilbo hugged his mother. They spent a few more moments to go over the gifts before Bilbo had to put them away or risk being caught by his father. They went to the kitchen and started a nice breakfast.

His father came in and kissed them both on the cheek. “How are my girls?” He asked before sitting down at the table. He lit his pipe and took a puff.

“Fine. I wanted to talk to you about Isabella. I have this friend down in Bree. They sent me a letter asking if I knew anyone who would be willing to give them a hand at their store. I thought it would be a great way to teach Bells how to be responsible. After all she is getting to the age where she should be learning these things. And who knows she might even find a nice respectable hobbit.” Her mother winked at him over her father’s head.

He wanted to roll his eyes. There was no way he was bringing a boy home. He wasn’t even interested in boys. Or maybe he was. Was that a thing? Could a boy like another that way? Would they even accept Bilbo?

“What would she be doing?” He asked and accepted the plate his wife placed in front of him. Bilbo helped set the rest of the table.

“Oh, just some cleaning and taking stock of stuff. Completely respectable. What do you say dear? Let her explore a little before she settles down. You know what it’s like to be her age.” His mother made a face. The one that meant she was sorry for hurting her. But Bilbo didn’t mind. He just had to earn enough so he wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

“I think that is a great idea dear. Get it out now before she gets too old for such things. After all what husband wants to have to chase their wife across the world.” Bilbo tried not to laugh at the face his mother made as she moved behind her father. They settled down and had a quiet breakfast. They would be going to the Grand Tree for the regular celebrations later.

The last few months before spring was in full swing were the hardest in Bilbo’s life. He longed to be in Bree where he would earn his own money so he could live on his own when he was no longer a tween. He believed less and less that his father would accept him as his son. Bilbo waved to his father and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the fall. Bye I love you.”

He hummed a merry tune as he walked the familiar roads out of the Shire. Once he had gotten far enough away, he snuck into the wood and stripped out of the skirts he had been forced to wear for half a year and donned his new clothes. Bilbo ran his fingers over the soft velvet of his vest. He loved the small flowers that were embroidered on the front.

Bilbo made the rest of the way to Bree comfortable. He made it there bright one morning and went straight to the Prancing Pony where he paid for a small room for the time he would stay there. Placing his things in his room he stared at his reflection. His hair was getting far too long to be a respectable length for a boy hobbit. Taking the shears he had brought with the young hobbit snipped away at the locks returning them to their proper length.

He went down into the common room where he paid for a nice supper and a glass of ale. Maybe he would see Thorin again soon. That would be nice. Thorin always had nice tales of places Bilbo would never see. He wasn’t like his mother he didn’t want to go on grand adventures. Bree was enough for him.


	6. CHapter 6

It was easy to get into a routine once Bilbo settled in at his new job. It was a quaint little store selling food stuff, cloth, and other odds and ends. Bilbo had actually come here once before when he had been looking for gifts for his family. It had been nearly a month since he had started working. Though he did wind up sore from stocking the shelves and lifting boxes. He was starting to lose the roundness common in all hobbit. If only just a little. He worked for a man after all and they didn’t have the sense to stop for all the meals a young hobbit was used to.

The wage was more than fair, and he had the job all the way until the start of autumn when he was expected to return home. Bilbo had to be more weary on how he spent his money. There wouldn’t be such extravagant gifts for everyone this year. He hadn’t realized just how expensive things were. His father had sent him with enough coin to cover his rent for the time that he would be staying but little else. It wasn’t until two weeks had passed that he noticed the small pockets his mother had sown into his pants that hid coin along the waist band and cuffs. He had though she had just added stiffing to keep their shape better.

It was a good idea to leave them unless he was laundering his clothes. He had heard of people’s things going missing before in places like Bree. Still it was enough that if he was feeling particularly in the mood to splurge on a meal he didn’t fear using his earnings. In all his time though he hadn’t seen Thorin and Bilbo had been by the smithery to see it not open.

The bell chimed over the door and Bilbo cursed silently as he set down the pad he had been working figures on. “One moment!” He called out before making his way to the front of the shop. “Thorin!” Bilbo cried out seeing the dwarf standing there. He looked just as shocked as Bilbo.

“What are you doing here Bilbo?” He asked setting his bag down. He looked like he had seen better days and a long time on the road.

“I’m working actually. What about you? Why do you look so…” He waved a hand a Thorin’s appearance.

“You shouldn’t talk to your customers like that.” Thorin smiled and the words held no bite to them. “We had a harsh winter in the Blue Mountains. I had to travel long into the night to make it here today. I would love to talk but I want to get my things settled into the smithery and maybe get a hot meal.”

“Of course. What do you need?” Bilbo rushed about gathering the things Thorin asked for. He took his coin and placed it in the lock box the shop owner kept along with the receipt for Thorin’s order. He would fill out the books later. “Here let me help you carry some of this. It’s late anyways and I was supposed to close up shop hours ago.”

“Will you get into trouble?” Thorin asked as he took some of the food he requested along with his bag. Bilbo shook his head and took up the rest of the things. He quickly locked up the shop and followed Thorin. “Then I would be glad for the company.”

They set off at a brisk walk though not one that would leave Bilbo struggling to keep up. “You mentioned a harsh winter where you live? It was mild here. How far is the Blue Mountains?”

“Far enough and winters are always harsh in the mountains. They are often the first to freeze and the last to thaw.” Thorin stepped onto the porch before setting his things on the ground. He removed the key and unlocked the door. “Go on in. I’ll be right behind you.”

Bilbo entered the shop and was surprised by how bare everything was. “Where is everything?” His voice echoed through the room as he made his way to the small kitchen in the back. He set the things down before putting things away.

“I haven’t made it yet. I sell as much as I can before I leave. What I don’t sell I take to the mountain. Those of my people in need of my wares are given them as winter gifts.” Thorin joined him and set his things down. “I have a pony and a cart at the inn. I bring all the supplies I use through the year with me.”

Thorin lit a lamp as they worked together to put away the rest of Thorin’s things. “Dinner? I’m starving. My treat Thorin since you just came into town.” Bilbo offered as he began to make his way to the front of the shop.

“Dinner sounds wonderful. Is the barmaid still working there? The one that blushes.” Bilbo laughed and swatted at Thorin’s arm.

“No. Don’t tease her. You were so horrible she still refuses to serve any dwarf that comes in.” They locked the door and made their way down the street.

“It is her own fault. Honestly asking if there was such a thing as a female dwarf.” Thorin scoffed before stopping to check the streets. They darted across.

“Well you didn’t have to go into detail of how dwarves had babies. And you said so yourself dwarven females have beard. I know I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.” Bilbo stepped forward and got the door for his friend. The barmaid in question took one look at Thorin and turned to run. “Now look what you did. Our meal is likely going to be cold and late.”

Thorin just shrugged before finding a table made for dwarves and hobbit. Both men took a seat and waited for the other barmaid to come to take their order. “How did the winter treat you Bilbo? I though Bree was just a holiday for you.” Oh, Bilbo had so much he just had to tell Thorin and he hopped to get many stories in return.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Transphobia/Homophobia.
> 
> If you don't want to read it when you get to where Bilbo meets his father skip over it. Please keep yourself safe. This is not a light chapter. Even I am going to go find something nice to watch/read/etc. It is very heavy and not good for anyone who has been on the receiving end of hate/abuse.

Bilbo rubbed his hands together and blew on them. It was growing colder, and the mornings held a chill to them now. He was already packed and ready to go home. Honestly, he had no idea where the time ran off to. “Thorin what are your plans for the winter?”

Thorin paused as he finished scrubbing down the shop. He was to head out in two weeks which meant he would not be forging any new items. “I am going home to the Blue Mountains.”

“Oh…I only asked because my mother said you should come by.” Though should he really? Thorin had only seen Bilbo as Bilbo. He never met Isabella. What if he lost his friend if he found out he had to wear a dress all winter? He just wouldn’t wear one.

“I can’t. I mean I would like to but the post doesn’t run through winter and my family would worry. I can come by next winter. If the offer still stands.” Thorin put down the rag he was scrubbing with before tugging Bilbo’s scarf around his neck. “You’ll catch your death if you go about with it hanging like that.”

“Thank you. I’ll ask my mother if you can come by next winter.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a wrapped package. “Here it is your winter’s gift from me. I want you to open before you leave. I noticed yours had seen better days.”

He was stalling. He knew he was, but he really wanted to spend more time with the only friend who knew Bilbo as Bilbo. “Will you be back in Bree next spring?”

“I really haven’t talked it over with my parents. And the shop owner’s daughter just married so I suspect his new son in law will help out. I am a hobbit after all. We can’t carry heavy things like men and dwarves can.” Thorin took the package and set it aside to check the button were properly fastened on Bilbo’s coat.

“Then come work for me. I can’t offer you the same pay, but it will at least be something in your pocket. I could use someone to run the counter while I forge. It’ll be doing me a favor. I won’t have to stop and answer so many questions.” Thorin looked him over from head to toe. “Are you sure you have everything?”

“I didn’t bring much with me. Just a few books and clothes. I have everything. Are you sure you want me here? I mean I know I must get on your nerves chattering away like I do.” Thorin gave him that look that meant he was just being foolish. “Right you wouldn’t ask if you didn’t mean it.” Sighing Bilbo hugged Thorin. “I am going to miss you.”

Thorin snorted and tugged a lock of hair. “It will only be until spring.” He leaned in and kissed Bilbo on the cheek. “A winter’s gift since I’ve had no time to prepare one. Now get going before the weather starts turning.”

Bilbo felt himself blush but managed to wave He found himself on the road home a short while later. The weather did turn colder by his third day of travel. He stopped at a farmer’s old barn before changing clothes. He didn’t need a fight with his father. Not when he had another year or so of saving before he felt comfortable moving out. He had yet to decide where he was going to stay. In the Shire or Bree. If he stayed in Bree it would be easier to live his life as Bilbo but then he would have to give up getting to see his mother often.

He hummed a soft tune as he made his way up the path that would lead him home. Already he could smell his mother’s home cooked meal. He grinned and sped up just a little more. He threw open the door and placed his things by the fire. “Mother!”

Belladonna slipped out from the kitchen and rushed to Bilbo. “Bilbo you’re home! I am so happy to see you. Where is your father dear? He said he would walk you home.”

Bilbo frowned. “I didn’t see him. When did he leave out? Where was he supposed to meet me?”

“He said he would meet you on the road about a day out from home. He was sure you would head out sooner. He didn’t see you in Bree did he?” Bilbo shook his head. He hadn’t seen his father in Bree or on the road.

“Maybe we missed each other when I stopped to change.” Bilbo went to put his coat back on. “I’ll go look for him. You stay here in case he comes back. He might have made it all the way to Bree and stopped for a drink.”

His mother nodded and watched as Bilbo left the house. He ran down path after path looking in case his father had already returned to the Shire. When it was clear he hadn’t Bilbo went further borrowing a lamp from one of the farms at the edge of the Shire. “Father?!” Bilbo shouted as he followed the path through the woods. For nearly an hour he searched until he saw a figure in the distance.

Bilbo squinted in the poor light. “Father?” He called out before moving closer. His eyes widened. That was his father’s coat! He ran forward until he came to a stop in front of his father. “Father what happened? You’re covered in soot. Mother was so worried.”

The slap stung his face. Bilbo nearly dropped the lantern as he stumbled. “You…How dare you?! I trusted you to go into Bree and be honest. I go there to find you…” The second strike was just as sharp as the first sending Bilbo to the ground. He tasted blood.

“What? Father?!” Never in all of Bilbo’s life had he been struck! Not even by his own parents. He scooted away as his father fumbled with the latch on his belt. There was a crazed look in his eye. “Stop! What are you doing?!” Bilbo shouted.

His father yanked his belt from his pants and wrapped it around his hand. He swung hitting Bilbo across the arm as he tried to block the blow. Fire exploded where the belt struck. There was no where to run. His father would only hit what was in easy reach. Be it his arm or leg, chest or back. He struck and struck until Bilbo’s whole body was on fire. He heard his mother shouting before everything faded away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a hard one to read as well. Likely the next one too before we move on to the lighter bits.
> 
> Warnings: Aftermath of transphobia. Character deaths.

A cool hand brushed over Bilbo’s neck. He whimpered and tried to move away. “Shh Bilbo. I need you to lay still.” His mother’s voice. Something cold stung along his back making him cry out. “I know baby. Just a little longer.”

“Just leave her be.” Bilbo jerked and tried to get up but none of his limbs would respond. “She got what she deserved. Dressing like a boy and fraternizing with some dwarf.”

“Get out! If you dare come into this room again the Green Lady help me, I’ll leave and never come back. I’ll take Bilbo with me.” Belladonna stroked Bilbo’s hair as he listened to his father leave the room. “He’s gone dear. Calm yourself. You’ll only reopen the wounds if you keep on.”

His mother’s tonic eased him back into the darkness of sleep. For an eternity his body ached and burned with each waking moment. Sometimes his mother was there to ease the pain. Other’s he heard her shouting at his father. Finally, there came a day when he awoke, and the ache was bearable. It took effort, almost more than he had, to get out of bed and go looking for his mother. His heart pounded in his chest at the though of his father being the one he found.

Bilbo entered his parent’s doorway hearing his mother humming. “Mother…?” His eyes strayed to his father who looked frail and nothing like the hobbit he once was.

“Shh dear. Your father is resting. He caught a cold. Why don’t we go to the kitchen and talk?” She wiped away the sweat at his father’s brow before getting up to join her son in the kitchen. “I’m glad to see you up and about. Here, eat some oatmeal. It should go down well enough. Can you tell me what happened? I heard it from your father but well…I think your story will likely be closer to the truth.”

Bilbo accepted the bowl he was given. “What do you mean?” Tears burned there way down his face. “He just attacked me Mother! I was on my way to find him.”

His mother gently took him in her arms. “It’ll be okay dear one. Mother’s here. Shh don’t cry.” It took far longer then Bilbo wanted it to, but he finally stopped sobbing. “Your dwarven friend. What was the last thing you did with him?”

Bilbo picked at his food before looking up at his mother. “I…we cleaned up his shop. I gave him a scarf since his was so old.” It had been such a pleasant memory and now it was spoiled by his father.

“Did you two kiss?” Bilbo felt his face heat before he vigorously shook his head. “Not even a little?”

“No! I mean he kissed my cheek, but it was only because he had nothing to give me in return of the scarf.” Bilbo pushed the bowl away. “I’m not hungry. Father was covered in soot. What happened?”

“Try to eat a little. While you eat, I’ll let you know what your father did.” Sighing Bilbo did as his mother bid and ate though it was a struggle. “From what I can piece together your father went to Bree to walk you home. He caught a ride there by my old friend Gandalf. He thought to surprise you at the Inn. When he didn’t see you, he started to ask around…That was when he found out you were ‘prancing about in male clothing and fraternizing with a dwarf of all things’. He went to see if it was true and saw you through the window.”

“But Thorin is just a friend! He wasn’t the only person I ate supper within Bree.” Though he had been his most favorite with all his stories of his nephews and sister. His head was starting to hurt. Maybe it had something to do with the sobbing.

“I know dear. But your father hid and you left.” She took his hand. “I don’t know what happened to Thorin only that your father set fire to his shop.”

“No!” Bilbo jumped to his feet only to fall as pain seized his body. He gasped for air. The room around him swam. Fresh tears rolled down his face. What had his father done?

“Shh before you hurt yourself. You are still healing. We will send word once spring comes. See if your dwarf is okay. But this winter is looking to be harsher than last.” Bilbo leaned in against his mother as he cried again.

The winter was harsh that year. It set his wounds on fire. His mother was awake late into the evening running between him and his father. Bilbo refused to enter his parent’s room for fear his father would jump from his bed and attack him again. No one came by because the snow kept falling.

One morning Bilbo walked into the kitchen. His body finally obeying him and allowing him to walk around without falling and having to catch himself. His mother sat in the chair a blank look on her face. Tears fell silently from her eyes. “Mother?” Slowly she turned to start at him but Bilbo was afraid she wasn’t really seeing him. “Are you okay?” A laugh escaped her lips before she tried to smother it. “Mom?!”

Bilbo hobbled to her side and knelt in front of her. It caused the scars on his legs to pull but they were slowly healing. “You are scaring me. What is it?” An ache formed in his throat.

His mother slid from her chair burring herself into his arms. “He passed dear. Just this morning. There was nothing more I could do.” She sobbed and laughed. “There was nothing…” Bilbo’s eyes blurred making it impossible to see anything.

“No…” He whispered and felt the first sob rack his shoulders. He gasped for air. “Mom no. You said it was just a cold…”

“It was…It was just a cold. But then winter hit, and he never got any better. He never got any better.” Another laugh broke from her lips that ended in a hacking cough. “We can’t stay here Bilbo. We can’t burry the dead and our larder is almost empty. We should go to my brother. We will return in spring.”

Belladonna got to her feet and rubbed her face. “Come on Bilbo. We need to go.” She pulled her son to his feet. “Gather your things quickly. Wear as many layers as you can stand. I’ll go gather what I can from our pantry. Quickly now.”

He obeyed his mother and paused at his parent’s room. He raised his hand and laid it on the door. Belladonna grabbed him having finished gathering everything. “You don’t want to see him like that dear. Remember him as he was when you were a child.”

Bilbo nodded and followed his mother as she pulled him by his wrist. The door opened and snow fell in. It stung his skin and it was imposable to see more than a foot in front of him. “This way. Keep ahold of my hand. What ever you do don’t let go.”

The snow was up to his knees. Still his mother pulled him on. On the wind came a howl like none Bilbo had heard before. His mother froze. She held her frying pan tighter. She turned to her son. “Bilbo listen to me. Run that way. You’ll come to a fork in the road. Turn left and keep running. You’re uncle’s home will be right there. Go!” She shoved him nearly making him fall into the snow.

“Mother!” Before he could get to his feet she was gone to the white storm that raged around them. Bilbo pushed to his feet and turned about trying to find her. “Mother!?” He shouted but he couldn’t hear anything. Another howl sounded. Turning Bilbo ran. He ran until his lungs burned and the tears froze on his eyelashes. He slammed into something hard. Bilbo scrubbed at the thing beneath his hands. A door! Bilbo slammed his fist against the door screaming at whoever was inside to let him in.

His uncle opened the door. “Isabella? What happened to you?! Where are your parents?” He grabbed Bilbo by his shoulders pulling him in.

“Mother. T-there was this howling a-and mother, she ran off. Father passed away from his illness. Please we have to go find my mother.” His teeth chattered as he was pulled further in.

“We will Isabella, but you need to get by the fire.” He placed a hot cup of tea in Bilbo’s hands before bundling up and stepping out the door.


	9. Chapter 9

They found his mother’s body though his uncle refused to let him see her. The wolves had gotten her. They ran through the Shire attacking anything they could. Like the hobbits the wolves were starving. No one left their home that winter. Except Bilbo had no home. He had of course inherited Bag End but was that really his home? It couldn’t be. Not without his parents. Not without his mother there to brighten the kitchen and tell him all about how this plant does this to a person. Never eat one of those plants because it will kill you. Or how he would sit with his mother and knit in the soft winters of the Shire. But this year it hadn’t been soft, and his mother was gone.

His uncle was understanding of Bilbo’s… “uniqueness” because Belladonna had told him about the dwarves that had the same “uniqueness”. That was what his uncle called it. However, his new aunt just looked down her nose at him and would refuse to say a word. Spring came and finally they laid his parents to rest. Though again he was not allowed to see either of them.

It was then he noticed no one spoke to him. All of his cousins ran every time he came near them. His neighbors would find something else to do. It was on his way home that he heard his aunt talking to the hobbit who lived down the road from him. “If you ask me, I think ‘his’ father died of a broken heart. Honestly, who could do such a thing to their parents. Ungrateful it what it is. After all these years raising her, excuse me ‘him’ up only for ‘Bilbo’ to act like this. Why it just isn’t proper. His mother was always a strange one. Of course, it doesn’t run in my sweet husband. No, he stayed home like a proper hobbit.”

His face burned. Without saying a word to her or anyone else he made his way home and slammed the door behind him. The smial was silent and the only smell that greeted him was stale air. Right then. Bilbo pushed his sleeves up his elbows and ran about opening every window. He scrubbed the floor, the counters, even the bookshelves, and dressers. For days he scrubbed everything down. Each night he would fall into bed and was asleep before he could even pull the covers over himself. When there was nothing left to scrub or rearrange Bilbo fell to the floor in the living room and wept. His mother was gone, and his father died hating him!

Bilbo let out a scream and threw things from where they had rested on shelve. His father’s books flew across the room. His mother’s favorite chair. He grabbed her portrait and paused. “Mother…” He fell to the floor bracing his back against the wall. How could she have left him? Didn’t she understand? He would have rather died with her then live in this place that held her ghost.

Years passed and the pain grew easier. All except his mother’s brother cut connections with him that first year. He was left alone with the people who rented land from him. It was how he got to know his gardener the Gamgees. They came by every day for tea. It was the one small thing that made him get out of bed and freshen up. He refused to even set foot in Bree afraid to see the burnt remains of his only friend.

It got easier at the years went on. He was just the strange hobbit that lived in Bag End. Parents no longer pulled their children away from him. People did not cross the street to avoid him. In a way it was as if Bilbo had always been Bilbo to them. But still each day Bilbo woke and for one second he could smell his mother’s cooking and could hear her singing. Then everything would crash down on him and he couldn’t breathe. Most mornings he couldn’t get out of bed but by noon he would drag himself out and into the bath before changing clothes. He would make a small lunch and sit waiting until four when the Gamgees would come over and he would have tea. With each year it became easier to get out of bed. He even started working the garden himself. It at least gave him something to do that reminded him of his mother.

Only the winters were hard. He had no green things to look after and he always had too much time on his hands. He read his fathers books over and over until he nearly had each page memorized. Bilbo would sleep most of the day away and could barely get out of bed in the cold months. The Great Winter as it was now called was still fresh in everyone’s mind. No one came out of their homes and the visits with the Gamgees would halt until spring. Bilbo was left with only ghost.

Spring came about again for which Bilbo was most grateful for. He left his home and sat out on a bench Mr. Gamgee had made. “So you can sit in the sun.” He had told Bilbo when he had brought it over. He was enjoying watching the clouds when a puff of smoke flew and hit his face. He sputtered and quickly waved it away only to notice some old man stood outside his fence.

“Good morning?” Bilbo asked and listened as the man went on in a confusing tangent about good and morning. “All of them I suppose? Can I help you?” No one had come around here in many years.

“That remains to be seen. I am looking for Belladonna Took or as she goes by now a days Belladonna Baggins.” The old man leaned on his cane. “Can you tell me where she is?”

“Oh…I’m sorry. She passed some years ago.” Bilbo ignored the burn that started at the back of his throat. It still hurt every time he had to say that.

“That is quiet the shame. I’m sorry but you look a lot like her. Except for your hair. Are you related by any chance?” Bilbo frowned but gave a nod. “Excellent. I am looking for someone to go on an adventure with.”

Oh no. Bilbo had enough adventure to last him a lifetime. “I’m not sure you will find anyone willing anywhere near here.” He quickly stood and rushed up the stairs. “Good morning.” Bilbo slammed the door shut and pressed himself against it. His hands shook as a deep rumble haunted his memory. He was just fine in the Shire where there were no dwarves or black smiths with bright blue eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

After the scare he had Bilbo spent the rest of his day tucked away in a nice armchair where he could read the books in his father’s collection. He had tea with the Gamgees like he always did. Though he didn’t mention the wizard that had shown up from nowhere. He trusted the Gamgees but he really didn’t want to risk losing the only people that really talked to him. By supper he had forgotten all about the wizard and had settled down to have a nice quiet meal.

Just as he was putting fork to food there came a knock at this door. “Now who could that be at this hour?” Maybe Mrs. Gamgee had left something. He set his things down and made his way to the door opening in. Bilbo froze. He hadn’t seen those tattoos in years. He remembered this dwarf had been around in Bree. Though their meetings had always been in passing. He had never stayed more then a few days at a time when he visited.

“Um…g-good evening.” Bilbo quickly tied his robe closed.

“Dwalin at your service.” The dwarf said before making his way into Bilbo’s house. “Which way laddie? Is it down here?”

“I-is what down where?” Bilbo turned from his door. Why on earth was there a dwarf in his house?

“Supper. He said there would be food, lots of it.” Dwalin threw his coat at him forcing Bilbo to catch it.

“I-I’m sorry but w-who said?” The question went unanswered as Bilbo trailed after the dwarf. Dwalin sat down at his table and started eating what had been Bilbo’s supper. The way he ravaged it Bilbo wasn’t too upset to see it go. The dwarf seemed like he hadn’t eaten in a while. He could always make another supper after the dwarf left.

“Very good this? Anymore?” Dwalin said as he cleaned the last of the plate.

“Um yes. Here help yourself.” Bilbo took down the plate of biscuits and passed them over but not before he took on himself. He watched as the dwarf stuffed his face. “It’s just…I wasn’t expecting company. If I had…” There came another knock on his door before he could finish speaking.

“That would be the door.” The dwarf spoke from where he was still devouring the biscuits.

Bilbo went to the door and opened it. Once more there was a dwarf standing there. “Balin at your service.” The dwarf said with a bow and a smile.

“Good evening…” Bilbo said. The dwarf looked to the sky and agreed.

“Am I late?” Balin asked.

“L-late for what?” Before he could answer there came a shout from the other dwarf. Bilbo turned and watched as they exchanged words before crashing their heads into each other. He winced and wanted to hold his own head.

Bilbo followed them to the pantry. “I don’t mean to be rude and I like visitors, but I would like to know them before they come visiting. I’m sorry but I don’t know either of you in the slightest. I don’t mean to be blunt, but I had to speak my mind. I’m sorry.”

Finally, both of them turned to him. “Apology accepted.” Did they not hear a word he had just said?

Before he could try again there was another knock at the door. Oh, by the Green Lady please let there be no more of them. Bilbo went to the door and opened it to see two very young dwarves standing there.

“Fili and Kili.” They introduced themselves. “You must be Mr. Boggens.”

“No no you can’t come in.” Bilbo tried to shut the door. There were already way too many people in his house. Two was plenty. The dark haired one shoved the door open.

“What? Has it been canceled?” His wide blue eyes were so familiar.

“Nothing has been canceled.” A smile lit up his face and for a moment it was as if someone else was standing there. Before Bilbo knew it, his arms were filled with weapons and the two young dwarves were off doing who knows what in his house.

He followed them to his dining room. “Come now help me move this or we’ll never have enough room to fit everyone in.”

“What? Everyone?” There couldn’t possibly be more coming. Bilbo’s hands shook and his breathing came in gasp. If this was someone’s sick sense of a joke it wasn’t funny. As there came yet another knock on his door Bilbo wanted to scream. He stormed to the door and dropped the mound of weapons as he went.

He yanked the door open and eight dwarves fell in. There stood the wizard at the back looking in. Bilbo took a deep breath. “Gandalf…” He should have known.

Bilbo left them all to straighten themselves out. He went to his room and got dressed. There was no way he was going to host this thing in only his night shirt. He stepped out of his room as he was fixing his suspenders. He watched as they emptied his larder and ate worse than the rowdiest pub room.

With shaking hands, he rubbed at his eyes and took deep calming breaths. “Whatever is the matter Bilbo?” Gandalf asked.

“What’s the matter?” Bilbo lowered his hands. “They drug mud all over my mother’s carpet. They pillaged my pantry.” Just what he needed a trip into the market. He absolutely hated going to the market. Perhaps he would see if Mrs. Gamgee would go with him. “I don’t even want to know what they’ve done to the bathroom plumbing. And I still don’t know what they are doing in my house!”

“Excuse me.” A soft voice brought his attention to a young dwarf. Dori was it? No that was the one with the star shaped hair, right? “What should I do with my plate?”

“Here Ori give it to me.” The golden haired one said taking the plate and throwing it down the hall. That was his mother’s plates! The dark haired one who had come with caught it and tossed it down another hall. Before he could put a stop to it another one flew by his head. Then they started banging their forks and knives on the table.

“Stop that you’ll blunt them!” They ignored him and proceeded to sing a stupid song as they continued to toss around his mother’s things. He rushed after the one called Ori to see all of the dishes stacked and ready to be put away. They were all laughing. Even the damned wizard who started all of this mess. Once more there was a knock at his door.

They all went quiet as they looked towards the door. “He’s here.” No! No more dwarves in his house! Bilbo moved to the door quiet intent on telling whoever it was to piss off. Only Gandalf and his longer legs got there first.

“Gandalf.” Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat. His stomach twisted and his ears rang. Whatever was said Bilbo couldn’t hear. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Gandalf shifted out of the way and before him stood a dwarf Bilbo thought he would never see again.

“Thorin I would like you to meet Bilbo. Bilbo this is Thorin Oakenshield.” Finally sound rushed back in.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just saying I love the song Misty Mountains and I used Peter Hollens' version since it was longer than the one in the hobbit move. We are almost there folks. The adventure is about to began.

He couldn’t breathe. How was Thorin standing here? His father had… Sound once again rushed away from him as his hands shook. Whatever Thorin said, and Bilbo could see his lips move, he couldn’t hear it. Dwalin took Thorin by the shoulder and drug him into the dining room. Only Gandalf was left in the entry way with him.

“Are you quiet alright Bilbo?” The wizard placed a hand on his shoulder drawing Bilbo into the here and now.

“No. I’m not. Why are they here?” He whispered. “Why my house?”

“Well we are in need of some help. You see we are in need of a burglar. Your mother had always helped me when I asked. I thought maybe she had taught you a thing or two.” Gandalf said.  
“No. No she did not.” His eyes were drawn to where the others had gone. Thorin sat with his back to Bilbo and Dwalin set down a bowl of stew for him. He was alive. Thorin was alive and in his dinning room of all things. With each deep breath the bindings bit around his chest until there were spots in his vision.

“Bilbo could you bring us more light?” Jerking Bilbo moved from where he was standing and went to fetch another candle while Gandalf went to join the others. His hands shook as he placed the candle down on the table. Some of the wax fell on his hand. Drawing his hand back Bilbo tucked them under his arms.

A map was placed on the table and the rest were talking. He looked up. “What beast?”

“That would be reference to Smaug the Terrible. Chiefest of all Calamities.” The dwarf continued to speak but Bilbo wasn’t listening. Thorin was looking at him. Why wasn’t he screaming or demanding to leave? Why was Thorin here?

The dwarves began shouting amongst themselves until Thorin stood. His voice boomed through the house. Bilbo jumped and quickly took several steps back. The black spots at the edge of his vison grew in number and more than just his hands shook. For a moment he was back in the woods with his father standing over him.

Gandalf was on his feet shouting. “If I say Bilbo is a burglar then a burglar he is or will be when the time comes.” Whatever else was said was lost to the ringing in Bilbo’s ears.

Suddenly there was a folded piece of paper thrusted in his hands. Bilbo looked down at them though he couldn’t make out the words for a long moment. A fourteenth share of treasure. A bit about expenses. “Incineration?!” His father’s words came back to haunt him. How had Thorin survived the burning of his forge? The dark spots grew until they took over his whole vision. He felt weightless and then nothing at all.

Bilbo came to sitting in his mother’s chair. A cup of tea was passed to him by Gandalf. He sipped it slowly. The wizard paced the length of the room puffing on his pipe. “I’ll be alright…Just let me sit quietly for a moment.”

“You have been sitting quietly for far too long.” Gandalf turned to him. “Tell me when did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you?” That was quite easy, after she had passed. “I remember a young hobbit who would run around searching for elves in the woods. Who would stay out late and come home after dark trailing mud across the floor. A hobbit that was eager to see what lay beyond the Shire.”

“That was a long time ago.” Bilbo whispered. He was ignored as Gandalf continued to go on about the world being outside of his father’s books. Oh Bilbo knew the world. It was a cruel place and he wanted nothing to do with it! He just wanted to live in peace and keep the few friends he had.

“I am a Baggins of Bag End.” There was no way he could go running off into the wild.

“You are also a Took.” Bilbo sighed and laid his head against the back of his chair. Of course, Gandalf would bring that up. The last time he had listen to his Took side it cost him a really good friendship and the respect of his father.

“I’m sorry Gandalf but you’ve got the wrong hobbit.” There was no way he would be able to go. Not if it meant he would have to stay anywhere near Thorin. He had caused the dwarf enough grief. Bilbo stood from his mother’s chair. “You said so yourself. You were looking for my mother…and I am not her.” He patted the back of his mother’s chair before leaving the room.

Once he was safely behind his door, he slid down the door and hid his face in his shaking hands. There came humming. It filled Bilbo’s house. Even after all these years he could pick out Thorin’s voice out of the others. He had listened to it so many times sitting at Thorin’s forge as he sang while he worked. Words came. Beautiful haunting words.

Far over the Misty Mountains cold  
To dungeons deep and caverns old  
We must away ere break of day  
To find our long forgotten gold

The pines were roaring on the height  
The winds were moaning in the night  
The fire was red, its flaming spread  
The trees like torches blazed with light

The wind was on the withered heath  
But in the forest stirred no leaf:  
There shadows lay be night or day  
And dark things silent crept beneath

The wind went on from West to East;  
All movement in the forest ceased  
But shrill and harsh across the marsh  
Its whistling voices were released

Farewell we call to hearth and hall!  
Though wind may blow and rain may fall  
We must away ere break of day  
Far o'er the wood and mountain tall

The song drew to a close. Bilbo rubbed his face removing the tears that had fallen. He could hear them moving around likely getting ready for bed. It was strange hearing sounds in his house made by someone other then himself. Bilbo found himself falling asleep where he sat on the floor.


End file.
